


If You...

by agentmarvel



Category: Snowpiercer (2013)
Genre: F/M, Reader-Insert, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-11
Updated: 2015-11-04
Packaged: 2018-04-03 21:18:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4115269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agentmarvel/pseuds/agentmarvel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Ah yes. Finally finished this.<br/>I intentionally left it open for a potential second chapter, depending on the reception of this one.<br/>Feedback appreciated!</p><p><3</p>
    </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Ah yes. Finally finished this.  
> I intentionally left it open for a potential second chapter, depending on the reception of this one.  
> Feedback appreciated!
> 
> <3

Curtis was never one to mince words. The things that came out of his mouth were plain and simple, cut and dried. He said what he meant and meant what he said. Rarely did he make any attempt to jest, keeping his tone even and stern. The dirt caked on his flesh merely added to the air of mystery. More often than not, his clouded blue eyes sat trained on various other passengers, watching their every move. He was calm, calculating. No one knew the details of what he was planning. Hell, no one knew if _he_ knew the details of what he was planning. No one, aside from Edgar, Curtis’ closest friend, that is.

As the last of the daily head counts finished, Curtis held his hand out to you, waiting to help you up. Edgar snickered between closed lips, elbowing Curtis. Curtis merely gave you a gentle smile. You placed your hand in his. His were much larger in comparison, not to mention considerably rougher, but they were always plenty warm, despite the freezing temperatures on the train.

He smoothly tugged you to your feet, allowing your legs to unfold beneath you. Your calves waivered slightly, but you stood otherwise sturdy. With a soft tone and brief eye contact, you thanked Curtis. He uttered a reply too low for you to hear, but squeezed your hand. For some reason, he was still holding on to it, not that you minded.

“You can let’er go now, y’know,” Edgar chided, nudging Curtis again. Curtis let his hand linger a moment longer before letting go. One corner of his lips turned up into a half-smile, but it only lasted until Edgar tugged his shirt, nodding his head towards the guards. They were beginning to line everyone up to receive their protein blocks. One guard, though, had his stare trained elsewhere, namely on you. This didn’t go without notice. Curtis placed a hand on your lower back, pushed you forward.

“Stay behind Edgar. I don’t like the way that one keeps looking at you,” he murmured in your ear, eyes darting to the staring guard. You nodded. His hand slipped slowly off your lower spine, grazing the back of your forearm. Edgar glanced back, shooting Curtis a quizzical look, but once he caught you looking at him, Edgar smiled. The line moved forward, but Edgar stalled in his steps, taking them slowly, deliberately, to keep you close behind. You looked down; trying to avoid the weighted stare of the guard, but you could still feel his eyes on you.

“Curtis, why is he looking at me like that?” you asked quietly, not looking away from your bare feet. He shook his head, letting his fingers trail down your arm again.

“I’m not sure. Just don’t look at him, okay? Keep your eyes on Edgar.” There was only a brief second for you to look back at Curtis, but the line moved far enough forward that the three of you were already beside the bin. You were each handed a protein block and moved along, but not before you saw the staring guard lean over to his cohort and whisper something. That made you nervous in the worst sense of the word. You couldn’t make out what was being said, but obviously Curtis did. He instinctively wedged himself between you and the bin, using a hand to guide you forward. From the corner of your eye, you watched him look back.

“He said you’d make a nice addition to the front,” Curtis muttered, presenting more of a contemptuous growl. Fear burrowed itself into your stomach, and you felt like you might throw up. But as Tanya always taught you, you put on a brave face. Worry wore lines into Curtis’ forehead. Edgar’s fingers encircled your wrist and he pulled gently, encouraging you to sit down. Curtis folded his legs beneath him, sitting just to the right of you. His thigh was pressed up against yours, radiating more heat than you thought possible. He and Edgar exchanged knowing glances as you leaned back against your empty bunk.

“Tail passengers that go to the front don’t come back,” you finally sighed, drawing a look of concern from Edgar.

“You’re not going to the front,” Curtis stated. It wasn’t so much what he said as how he said it that made you relax a little. He said it like it was a simple fact. You smiled and patted his thigh, letting your fingers linger for a moment.

“Curtis, if they-“

“Edgar, hush. She’s not going.” You glanced at Edgar, placing a palm on his shoulder.

“If they what?” you asked cautiously, ignoring the interruption. Edgar muttered your name, chasing it with a sigh.

“If they want you in the front, we can’t stop them. They’ll kill us.” You nodded knowingly, but Curtis interjected once more, effectively ending the conversation.

“Edgar, shut up! They won’t touch her. I won’t let them. I promised to keep her safe, and if that means dying, then so be it. Now drop it, both of you.” He bit into his protein block and tugged his beanie off, setting it in your lap. “Put it on. They all know it’s mine.”

 

*

 

“When are you going to tell that poor boy?” Tanya asked, putting a hand on your arm. You shook your head, avoiding her gaze.

“I’m not gonna tell him. Might just make things weird between us, and I can’t risk that. Not after everything he’s done for me,” you grumbled, resting your chin against the heels of your palms. Timmy, her son, barreled past you, chasing after another child from the tail section, Joshua. Tanya sighed, resting her hands on her hips.

“Curtis is a wonderful man. He goes out of his way to help anyone he can. But you, dear, you’re special to him. In seventeen years, I’ve never seen him look at anyone the way he looks at you. Give him a chance.”

“Tanya, I-”

“At least talk to Edgar about it, will ya? You have plenty of time. Curtis is in with Gilliam.” She nodded over your shoulder to the section blocked by a hanging blanket. Your gaze followed hers, contemplative. Edgar was standing a few feet from it, picking at his fingernails with a look of irritation. Copious quantities of filth had accumulated over the years, decorating each and every passenger, and Edgar was no exception. He looked up just long enough to catch your gaze. There was a crooked grin playing at his thin, cracked lips. The pair of tense creases in his forehead eased up.

Tanya nudged you, pushing you towards him. With a relenting sigh, you moved. Edgar’s eyes never strayed from your weary face. In any other circumstance, that would tend to make you uncomfortable, but it was, after all, Edgar.

“Sunshine, ‘ey,” he chirped. For once, he sounded cheerful, like he’d gotten wonderful news. In a world like this, though, it was hard to take joy in even the smallest of things.

“Everything alright?” Edgar nodded vigorously.

“Bit more than a’right, but I can’t say any more than ‘at.” You cocked an eyebrow and he chuckled. “Don’t go askin’ questions, either. Last thing I need is a tongue lashin’ from Curtis.”

“I won’t ask about that, but I do need to ask you about something else.” Your volume had dropped to a whisper, and you gestured for him to come closer. He craned his neck forward, leaning towards you.

Before you could speak, Curtis emerged from behind the raggedy blanket with an angry expression, shooting Edgar a pointed look. Edgar just shrugged and shifted back. Curtis pushed passed the pair of you, his fingers scraping at the hair lining his jaw. The sound of metal on metal sounded from the room he’d just exited, and Edgar took off after Curtis with wide eyes.

You glanced over to Tanya, who looked every bit as perplexed as you felt. The wool fabric of Curtis’ cap brushed your ears as you pulled it down tighter. She gave you a resigned smile.

“Might as well crawl in bed, then, I suppose,” she insisted.

“Yeah, might as well… But if Edgar wakes me with his snoring again, I’m going to climb up there and pop him one,” you snickered, earning a rare laugh from Tanya, as well as a few bystanders. Close proximity to the other passengers meant that absolutely nothing went unheard by prying ears.

“Oh, honey, he wakes everyone with his god-awful noise.” Your throat bounced with a silent laugh as you crawled into your bunk. They were stacked four to a side, Tanya’s bunk (shared with her son) below yours and Curtis’ right above. Edgar’s was at the top, and he usually needed a slight boost to get up. Each was blocked from common view by a thin, tattered curtain, held in place by a small plastic rod and rusted metal rings. Even the slightest passage of air could dislodge a ring, leaving you exposed.

Your head fell into the empty space where your pillow rested. Technically, it wasn’t actually _your_ pillow. An unknown thief had taken yours from your bed. But Curtis, the big ol’ sweetheart, had given you his instead.

_“Curtis, no. I-I can’t. I can’t take yours. I’ll be just fine without one, don’t worry.” You looked back at him, rolling up your coat. He was clutching his pillow, the white case flat and stained. Curtis shook his head._

_“Just take it. I can use my coat.”_

_“So can I,” you answered adamantly. He chuckled, his thumb brushing the hair lining his lower jaw._

_“Can’t give you my coat, kiddo. I still need it during the day.” With a playful huff and an eye roll, you pressed your tongue to the back of your teeth, trying to suppress a grin._

_“That’s not what I meant. I can use-”_

_“You can use my pillow. Quit being so stubborn. Just take it.” Tanya and Edgar exchanged glances, looking exasperated, but also like they were up to something. “I mean it. Please just take it. Until I find out who took yours, okay?”_

_“Curtis,” you sighed, pulling the curtain shut. He shot you a look that just screamed ‘don’t argue with me’. You raised an eyebrow, and he thrust the pillow out._

_“It’s only temporary. Now take it, or I’m going to keep putting it on your bed. I’ll do it every day if I have to.” Begrudgingly, you snatched the pillow from his hands and stuffed it in your bunk, but not before swatting him with it._

_“Ass,” you muttered. He just gave you that shit-eating grin. You know, the one that makes you forget about everything bad in the world, even if only for a second._

Mere seconds before you closed your eyes, you heard whispering from the aisle. The responsible parties were easily identifiable, considering you’d heard them daily for as long as you can remember.

“You ‘ave to tell ‘er. She ain’t gonna blow ya off.” That one was Edgar. It had to be.

“We’re done talking about this.” Curtis. “I’m not going to tell her, and neither are you.”

“But-” In your head, you could already see the look of annoyance on Curtis’ face. His lips were pressed into a firm line, brows low, and he was giving Edgar a sideways glare. Curtis seemed to make that face a lot, and more often than not, it shut up whoever was talking. This time was no different. Edgar didn’t make another sound, other than the grunts of protest while clambering up into his bunk.

A deep, rumbling chuckle came from Curtis. He must have been easing his way into his own bunk, because the rickety wooden frame creaked and groaned under his weight. You curled your arm under the pillow, hearing him shifting and wadding up his coat. There was a brief second of silence, where the only sound was the chug of the wheels against the rails beneath you, but it was broken when Curtis let out a sigh. Your eyes fluttered shut, and you drifted off.

 

 

You re-awoke with a start. Chest heaving, breathing ragged, you bolted up, throwing your legs out of your bunk. The sound of your bare feet hitting the floor was muted enough that it ought not to have disturbed anyone else. You threaded your fingers through your hair, gripping it just hard enough to be able to feel the tug against your scalp. A salty taste met your lips. _When did I start crying?_ You sniffled a bit, trying to keep your nose from running.

Behind you, there was a hushed grumble. It was unintelligible the first time, but the second, it was slightly louder, slightly clearer. The third time was crystal clear and accompanied by the sound of the rusted rings sliding across plastic. The grumble was someone muttering your name, and when you turned toward it, you were met with the sight of Curtis. Even with blurry vision and little to no light, he was beautiful. The hard lines of his face were still prominent in the shadows. He looked weary, exhausted.

You scrambled to wipe the tears from your cheeks, still not quite sure when they actually began to fall.

“What are you doing up?” he asked. One eyebrow cocked itself, only visible due to the stark contrast between its dark hue and that of his pallid skin. “You- Are you okay? What’s wrong? What happened?”

You shook your head, waving your hand dismissively.

“I’m fine, Curtis. Go back to sleep,” you insisted, giving him a soft smile. You weren’t exactly sure whether he’d seen it or not, but it didn’t hurt to try.

“You’re not fine.” He rolled further forward, letting his long, sturdy legs dangle from the edge of his mattress. Curtis sat himself up and pushed off effortlessly, making a dull thud as he hit the floor.

“C’mere,” he mumbled, settling his bulky arms around your shoulders. You folded your arms around him, letting your hands rest higher on his shoulder blades. “Nightmares again?” You nodded against his chest. He tightened his hold on you for a moment before pressing his lips to the top of your head. For once, you tried to relax, allowing your body to melt into his.

After a few minutes of standing there, tangled and together, Curtis let out a heavy sigh.

“You should get back to sleep,” he whispered, placing another chaste kiss in your hair.

“No way am I gonna be able to sleep again.” Curtis shifted, nudging you back towards your bunk.

“I’ll lay with you ‘til you fall back asleep. I always used to do that when you couldn’t sleep.” There was another hushed laugh on his behalf. You were no more than four years old when you boarded the train. Curtis was seventeen. Shortly after, your father was beaten to death by a squadron of guards. Tanya took care of you after that. When she was occupied, you were left in the capable hands of Curtis.

When you didn’t pull away from him, he apparently took that as consent. You were fully aware that he knew you’d speak up if you were against it. Cautiously, as to not wake anyone else, he backed you up to the bunks. In one swift movement, he lifted you, sitting you down on the side of his bunk.

“You’re gonna have to scoot over, y’know?” He grinned up at you. You laid back, scooting to the inside to make room for him. Each bed was a twin-sized mattress, making it a tight fit, but you managed. Curtis squeezed in beside you, leaving your chest pressed into his abdomen.

He let out an airy laugh, shifting slightly.

“I… Shit, I’m sorry.”

“For what?” you asked, running your fingertips over the scar peeking out under his collar. He wrapped his long, narrow finger around yours, holding your hand over his heart. It throbbed inside its cage, pulsating erratically.

“Probably should have, uh, p-put you in your own bunk.” The circles beneath his eyes were faded plum, sallow, even in the dark. A silence settled between the two of you, and you pressed your forehead into the crook of his neck. With a well timed lift-and-roll combination, Curtis rolled to his back. You ended up half way on top of him, with your head and hand still in their respective places. Again, he sighed. One of his arms was still tucked beneath you while the opposing hand still held yours against him.

A gruff snore interrupted the comforting quiet. It starts off low and soft, but gradually grows to sound more like a bear stuck in a trap. From there, it begins to taper off, becoming whiny and nasally.

You looked up at Curtis, who had a huge grin playing on his lips. When the noise softened to a whistle and began again from the beginning, he couldn’t help himself. Curtis began to laugh, and it was the most breathtaking sound you’d ever heard. There was a slight wheeze in his chest, but his whole torso rumbled as he tried to stifle it again. It echoed in your ears, and you decided right then that it was a sound you never wanted to forget.

Curtis’ short bursts of laughter spurred your own snickering, which made Curtis laugh harder, which made you laugh louder, and it spiraled from there.

“God, I love it when you laugh,” he breathed, giving you another tight squeeze. “You don’t do it nearly as often as you should.”

“You know, Everett, neither do you. Maybe we should be awake this late every night just to listen to this schmuck snore.” Curtis’ chest puffed up with another silent laugh.

“Yeah, maybe we should,” he murmured, tilting his head. He looked down at you with a foreign look in his eyes. In seventeen years of being on the train, seeing Curtis every day, you’d never seen him look at anyone that way. It was ardent, affectionate, with something stronger than wonder. The intensity was enough to make you look back to the collar of his shirt. He still had a smile tugging at his lips, but no more words passing.

Another snort and shuffle from above drew him from his stare. Curtis kicked up, thumping the wooden slat with his boot. He made a remark about reminding him to give Edgar hell for it later, which made you laugh a bit. Your laugh brought Curtis into another round of chuckles, which just made you laugh more. He had to wipe a tear from his eye before too long, winding himself down.

“We really should make this a thing,” he beamed. “Y’know, if you want to.”

“I’d really like that, Curtis.” Curtis leaned down just a bit further, pressing his warm, cracked lips against your cheek. For a split second, you forgot about the train, the cold, the guards. You forgot about Edgar’s snores. You forgot about the protein blocks and your missing pillow. Everything but Curtis was dismissed, pushed aside. Your relaxation must have been pretty obvious, because Curtis tightened his grip on your hand. It was still sandwiched between his own hand and his chest.

He whispered your name against your skin, giving a short plea for you to look at him. When you complied, he took a deep breath. He looked like he wanted to say something, but his stare swam with uncertainty.

“What’s on your mind?” you probed, grasping at the fabric of his shirt. The bone-chilling temperatures made his warmth all the more enticing, spurring you to lean further into him. The hand once settled between your shoulder blades drifted down your spine, settling on the small of your back.

“If… If you…” he sighed, eyeing the gap between your lips and his. “If you don’t want this, stop me.”

Curtis took his time, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. The distance was slowly closing. His eyes fluttered shut, as did yours. After what felt like minutes, his lower lip barely graced yours. He paused for a moment, giving you the opportunity to pull away if you so pleased. That opportunity was ignored in favor of taking the one thing you craved. You surged forward, allowing your lips to rest against his.

It took some time for him to respond, but once he did… _Holy shit_. A delicate rhythm developed. Curtis’ lips worked in synchronicity with yours, parting when yours parted, closing when yours closed. He finally let go of your hand, instead draping it over your hip. His fingers laced against your lower spine. Your entire body was braced against his. The hand on his chest moved up, and the tips of your fingers scraped a line down his bearded jaw. Coarse strands left a mild tingling sensation on your skin. Your other hand found itself resting on the back of his head.

His tongue traced a sweet, loving line around your lower lip. But when you opened to allow him entrance, he pulled back. A breathy sigh fell from his mouth, and he pressed his forehead to yours. You opened your eyes to find his still clenched shut. With a small peck, they opened, and his pale blue eyes stared intently into yours.

“I’m sorry,” he grumbled. “I couldn’t wait anymore.” You shook your head, peppering him with a few well-placed, chaste kisses.

“Don’t apologize.” Curtis gave you a remorseful smile. Something was bothering him. Normally, if something upset him, he’d speak up about it. Curtis was always the first person to try finding a resolution through communication. Sit down, talk it out, and move on. Why make it complicated? So the fact that you could see it in his eyes, but it wasn’t coming out of his mouth, was a bit unnerving.

“Is there something wrong?” you asked softly. “Did I-”

“No! No, no. Not at all, no. It’s just… I haven’t felt like this in a long time.” Your ears perked up a bit at that. _He’s lying._

“Curtis,” you warned, letting your tone even out. Rarely did you approach things with such a stern manner, but rarely did anyone effectively lie to you. “I know you well enough to know when you’re lying to me.”

Even in the pitch black of his bunk, curtain drawn, you could see his eyebrow arch up, like he was trying to figure out how you knew. He took another deep breath, now that he wasn’t gasping for air anymore. There was a pause before he let it out.

“I’m… I’m worried. You’re so _young_. I don’t want you to feel like you have to settle for someone like me. There are plenty of men closer to your age. Hell, Ed’s pretty close.”

“Curtis, stop,” you commanded, taking his chin firmly in your grasp. “You. It’s you. It’s always been you. I’m not _settling_ , I’m getting what I’ve always wanted.” He opened his mouth to make his counterargument, but you refused to allow it. “Ever since I was fourteen, Curtis, since I was old enough to see you as you are, to see you as the kind, intelligent man that you are.” Your name fell out with a sigh, and he stroked a coarse finger down your jaw.

“Do you know what it’s like?” he asked weakly. “Do you know how painful it is to pine for someone you know you can never have? I’m thirty-four. You’re twenty-one. People would talk, and you’d take the brunt of it. I can’t allow that. I love you too much to let you suffer like-” Your eyes went wide. Nothing could stop you from rushing in again, letting your lips crush his with as much force as your malnourished frame could muster. As soon as your mouth collided with his, your eyelids fluttered shut.

It didn’t take long for the kiss to become a mess of tongues and teeth. Curtis was nipping at your lower lip, hands scrambling for any possible hold. From one hand, the tips of his fingers dug into the flesh adjoining your thighs to your backside. They traced a shaky line up your hip, stopping just under the hem of your shirt to trace intricate circles on your lower back. The other hand, however, did not take such an innocuous approach. His fingers graced the front of your rib cage just below your breasts and winded their way up the length of your body. A flaming trail left in their wake, said fingers came to twist and tangle in your hair.

A weak, gratified sigh left Curtis’ lips. His body was lax, malleable. That left you to position your hands as strategically as you pleased. One stayed tensed, fist full of his collar, keeping him from moving away too much, and the other – oh, god… the other – grasped helplessly at the back of his head, trying frenetically, doing anything to get him closer. He pressed back with abandon, canting his hips forward. The friction was enough to make Curtis inhale sharply through his nose. That was your cue to give him a break, allow him time to breathe. But that didn’t mean you were done. Not even close.

Your teeth found purchase in the side of his neck, leaving behind an angry red blemish. It was sure to bruise, but that’s just what you wanted. You wanted everyone to see that Curtis was yours.

Obviously, he had the same idea. It took mere seconds for Curtis to catch his breath before his hips heaved again. His grip tightened as he tucked you beneath him. Chest-to-chest, he sunk his teeth into the flesh just beneath your ear. The sound that came from your lips was animalistic, which only seemed to encourage him to continue. He left a trail, alternating between nips and bites, from the high spot on your neck down to your sternum. His teeth worried the shallow tissue between your breasts, leaving behind a mark dark enough to stay for weeks. You sucked your lip between your teeth, trying to refrain from making too much noise.

Curtis moved his hand down to clutch your thigh. The bruising pressure of his fingertips was pushed to the back of your mind when he pulled a little, tethering your leg over his hip. The hand you’d placed in his hair came to his shoulder. Curtis took that as a sign of neglect to your lips, which were swollen and slicked with saliva. Not only yours, but his as well. His lower lip nudged yours. Your tongue darted out, catching the split in the center his lip. A breath hitched in his throat. Another hard grind forced the bulge at his zipper against you.

“Jesus Christ,” he whispered, slightly lifting his hips away from yours only momentarily. They came back down gently with a satisfied groan; he dropped his forehead into the junction of your neck and shoulder. His heated, labored breaths drifted across the hollow of your throat. In the midst of a particularly heavy sigh, he paused, swallowing hard. It was finished with a shallow exhale.

“Are you absolutely sure that you want this?” He pressed a kiss to the hinge of your jaw. “You can tell me to ‘no’. I don’t want you to feel like you have to. ‘m not going to force you into anything you’re not okay with.” You shook your head feverously, subconsciously stroking the back of his head again.

“You’re not forcing me, Curtis.” Your lips found the pair of worried lines worn into his forehead, kissing them as soothingly as possible. “This is all I want, all I’ve ever wanted. But I’m not the only one that needs to give consent. _You_ need to stop _me_ if I’m doing something you don’t want.” He chuckled at the sound of your teasing words, but shook his head all the same.

“I want it. I want you. I _need_ you.” You ran a finger down the protruding musculature in his neck, making intrinsic designs.

“Then take me, Curtis. Don’t make me wait anymore.” He peppered more kissed across your neck.

“God, I love you,” Curtis whispered. “So fucking beautiful.” Both of his hands snaked beneath your t-shirt, pushing it up your body. The gap between his lips and yours are just enough for the wadded fabric to slip between the two of you. Carelessly, he tossed it against the wall.

Immediately, your hands were on the hem of his Henley, yanking it up. It came off without ceremony, being discarded with yours.

Just prior to Curtis making another move, his curtain was yanked back. Edgar’s head swooped down. His expression was a cross between irritation and smug satisfaction. Curtis moved over you protectively, partially to keep you warm, partially to keep your bared flesh hidden from Edgar’s prying eyes.

“If you two’re gonna fuck, pipe down, would ya? Some of us are tryin’ t’ sleep, ya cheeky little cunts,” Edgar quipped. He winked and hauled himself right side up, and you could hear his curtain close before he shifted, making the entire frame above you creak and whine in protest.

Curtis chuckled, rubbing his hand up and down your thigh.

“Typical Edgar,” you sighed, rolling your eyes.

“It’s for the best anyways. I can definitely be a lot more romantic than this… Let me talk to Gilliam tomorrow, and I promise you, we’ll do this right. That okay with you?” You nodded, throwing your arms around his neck. He stole a few more kisses, though far more innocent this time. When you separated from him, he rolled off with you in tow. After a bit of complex shifting, the two of you ended up back in the same position you started in: Curtis on his back with you settled against his chest.

The rate of his pulse slowly decreased, the heaves of his chest calmed, and truly, you’d never felt safer in your life.

“I love you, Curtis Everett.” Another chuckle and he began to tuck the two of you beneath his blanket.

“I love you, too.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, look. Chapter two.  
> Not sure if I want this to be a short series or just leave it here.  
> Feedback would be great.
> 
> <3

You awoke the next morning tangled in a mess of limbs. Curtis’ shirt was lost somewhere beneath you, and yours had been cast off to the corner of the bed. His fingers were twisted up in your hair, holding you to his chest. The buckle of his belt was hanging loose, digging into your hip bones. If it hadn’t been for the bliss of waking up with Curtis, you _might_ have been slightly uncomfortable.

As your eyes cracked open, you glanced up. His eyes were still pinched shut. Breathing soft and shallow, his chest rose and fell with the utmost gentility beneath your head. You could hear each beat of his heart, you could feel it. It was soothing; almost enough to lull you back to sleep. But just before you closed your eyes, he opened his. His hips shifted as he stretched and yawned.

“Good morning, gorgeous,” he murmured, kissing the top of your head. You smiled a little and leaned up, stealing a quick kiss from his lips. He chuckled, making the wall of his chest reverberate with excitement. “God, you look beautiful right now.”

You shook your head, tracing the outline of a scar on his chest. There was a minute attempt to suppress a grin, but it didn’t really work. You insisted that you looked rougher than usual first thing in the morning, and Curtis would have none of it.

“Don’t degrade yourself like that. You are beyond stunning, even when you think you look your worst.” He reached over you and grabbed your shirt, placing it delicately in your hands. “Put it on. Oh, this too!” Curtis thrust his cap into your hands hurriedly. You hadn’t even noticed that it had fallen off during the night.

Curtis waited until you sat up to slip into his own shirt. Despite everything, he was still built like a brick shithouse. The way the fabric stretched to accommodate his mass was cruel, unjust, in the sense that you’d give your left arm to have him shirtless for a whole day. But with all the wandering eyes around and the below sane temperatures, you’d never ask him to make such a spectacle of himself. That visage was your privilege and yours alone.

You crawled over top of Curtis and dropped to the aisle, grabbing your coat from your bunk. Curtis followed shortly after, pulling his on as well. He scrubbed a hand over his beard. It was getting scraggly again, as was his hair. Messy, unkempt, definitely not words typically used to describe Curtis. The gleam of the train lights did nothing for his complexion either. If anything, they made his big blue eyes look dull. The dark rings beneath his eyes looked more like bruises. His skin was paler than you’d realized before getting out of bed. It was sallow, sickly.

“Did you sleep okay?” you asked softly, pulling your socks on. Curtis nodded emphatically.

“Honestly? Best sleep I’ve had in years.” The seemingly permanent smile on your face grew a little bigger. “Can we do this again? I mean, can I wake up next to you again?” You nipped at the inside of your lip, trying to mask the width of your grin. He nudged you with his elbow, awaiting a verbal answer. You sighed and leaned your head into his shoulder.

“That’s a ridiculous question, Curtis.” His face fell slightly, and his shoulders tensed. “Of course. Didn’t you hear me tell you that I love you last night? I’d be hurt if you _didn’t_ want to.” He relaxed, kissing the top of your head and throwing an arm around you.

“Don’t scare me like that,” he whispered, giving you a mild squeeze. There was an air of playfulness in his voice, but that made you realize you genuinely _had_ scared him a little.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

The thick iron gate that separated the tail section from the others began to rise, and Curtis let his arm fall cautiously. Instinctively, he guided you behind him. This wasn’t normal. Guards never came in the morning. It wasn’t time to disperse food, nor was it time for a head count. Hardly anyone was awake yet. Surely Wilford knew that. He had eyes all over the train.

Three guards entered, accompanied by Minister Mason. What a wretched woman, that one. Her angular face was weathered and worn with her beady little eyes darting all over the place. You could hardly see her in the space between Curtis’ arm and side, but you didn’t need to in order to know she was staring straight at him. Not just her, but the guards as well. You grasped the slack on the back of his coat and buried your face against his back. His hand came back again, patting your arm like he was trying to tell you not to worry.

“Come now, come now. Gather ‘round. Sit, sit.” He glanced back at you, taking a deep breath. When he went to step forward to join the others, Minister Mason stopped him. “No. No, not you. You go wake the others. Snap to it, we needn’t waste time.”

Curtis’ jaw tensed. You almost stepped around him, but he held his arm out, barring you from moving.

“I’ll need help. There are a lot of people back here.” She let out an exasperated sigh, but gestured for him to do what he needed to. He turned sharply, lower jaw still firmly set. A fingertip grazed your chin as he redirected your gaze to his.

“Wake the others in the back, okay? When you come forward, you do it in a group. There’s no telling what Mason’s up to. Now, go.” You nodded and his hand guided you towards the end of the tail section. Obediently, you went around to each bunk, waking it’s occupant with a warning. No one put up a fuss or fought you on it. You looked forward for Curtis, who was found waking Edgar, then Tanya and Timmy. He glanced back, forcing a smile, but it wasn’t difficult to see that his mind was plagued by something. What, you weren’t sure, but you _would_ find out.

As instructed, you stuck with the group of individuals until you reached Curtis, who was standing beside Edgar with Timmy and Tanya in front of him. He had a hand on Tanya’s shoulder with the other arm outstretched towards you. With a flick of his wrist, he beckoned you closer. Edgar gave you a downright filthy smirk and let his hips jerk forward a few times. You rolled your eyes and settled in by Curtis’ side. He didn’t put his arm around you like you knew he wanted to, but there was still a feeling of security.

Minister Mason was already running her mouth at a million miles per hour, and you weren’t picking up a single word. The preoccupation of observing Curtis was much higher on your list of priorities than listening to that blithering twat blather about whatever occurrence she’d deemed an issue today. It wasn’t common for her to disturb everyone just to make a point, but it wasn’t completely unheard of.

Curtis had a scar on the side of his neck, dipping just below the collar of his coat. The straight line was raised, protruding, in a violent shade of pink. It looked like it had only recently scarred at that. But regardless of its age, depth, vibrancy, you still loved it. It was a part of him.

His eyes roamed over the seated crowd with a dark intensity, like he was anticipating aggression. There was a slight twitch in his fingers that caused them to brush your wrist. Something Minister Mason balked out must’ve caught his attention, because he tensed. Curtis leaned forward on his toes a bit. He bounced for a second before settling back to his former stance. The outer edge of his thumb brushed against his nose briefly.

That must have been some sort of signal. Edgar moved like a snake, darting behind Curtis and putting a hand on your shoulder. You glanced at him to see his eyes swimming with a combination of unease and defensiveness. From the corner of your eye, you saw the guards yank a man forward, hauling him to his feet. A nauseating knot formed in the pit of your stomach, and Edgar pulled you into a hug. His hand came to the back of your head, holding your face into the crook of his neck.

“Don’t look. Don’t listen. ‘s ain’t gonna be pretty, an’-”

“Mason, there are children present,” a gravelly, shaking voice spoke up. There was a sound of metal on metal, clinking and clanking together. You’d only heard it a time or two before, but you knew who it was. “Release the women and children. Your quarrel lies not with them.”

“Ah, Gilliam,” Minister Mason replied sharply. “Fair point. You, you, and, ah… You! You three gather the little beasts in the rear. Everyone else stays put.”

There was a hushed shuffling of tiny feet and three heavier sets. They were herding the children back further. Minister Mason barked out a name, and you heard someone being dragged forward. Something lost its suction, which was followed by the whistling hiss of the freezing air outside as the train blew through it. A chill ran the length of your spine as a fresh but icy breeze crept through the section. Edgar pulled you in tighter, telling you to stick your hands inside his jacket. You allowed your hands to rest against his flimsy t-shirt beneath the thick lining of his coat. Edgar’s empty hand clasped itself on your shoulder, and a larger, warmer hand rested beneath. A riotous protest came from the object of this morning’s intrusion, but it was quickly silenced with another sound of sealed suction.

“And now we wait,” Minister Mason chirped. It was almost as if she took pleasure in making the less fortunate suffer. You had half a mind to ask for five minutes alone with her. Damn right, you’d _show_ her true suffering. “You! Standing in the back. Pay attention! Eyes forward, all of you.”

The insistence in her tone led Edgar to release his grip on you, but not before he whispered, “When they pull ‘is arm back in and settle it, cover yer ears, a’right?” You nodded, trying to maintain confidence, but it faltered when you looked at Curtis. He looked hopeless, helpless. There was nothing he could do to stop what was about to happen, and that was his worst nightmare. You knew as well as anyone else that all Curtis wanted was to keep his people safe. The hinge of his jaw was pressed firmly, making the muscles just below his temples tense and bulge. You reached for his hand, just barely brushing his fingers with yours. His nostrils flared slightly as he looked down. A shudder passed through his frame.

“If you want to go back with Tanya, then you need to do it now. Edgar and I will cover you,” he urged. His voice was timid, but sure. You shook your head firmly.

“Curtis, don’t. I’m not a child.” His eyes went wide. The look he gave you wasn’t out of anger. It wasn’t out of spite. It was a look of pure shock. “I don’t _want_ to see this, Curtis. I don’t. But Minister Mason is so unpredictable. If I suddenly disappear, who’s to say that she won’t punish one of us next? She knows I’m right here. She _saw_ me. I will _not_ do anything that may put you or Edgar in danger.”

His face softened a little. Edgar patted your shoulder, nodding to Curtis.

Mason had her goons retract the man’s arm from the porthole, sealing it once more to prevent any excess cold air from entering. Not for the sake of the tail passengers, but for herself, so she wouldn’t get any chillier. Curtis faced you full-on, tugging the edges of his cap down over your ears.

“Don’t look, okay? Please, don’t look,” he whispered, kissing your forehead quickly. Before you could answer, he turned back to the scene unfolding at the head of the section. Poor Joseph’s frostbitten arm was situated straight out, and one guard had a tense grip on a hefty sledge hammer. Your hand fisted itself in the back of Curtis’ coat. Edgar slung an arm around you just in case something happened. When the hammer rose, you flinched. But when the hammer was on its way back down, you buried your face in Curtis’ shoulder, keeping your unspoken promise.

The sound was horrendous, something that would haunt even the sweetest of dreams for years. Joseph’s screams immediately followed the sound you could only describe as shattering glass. It brought back memories of before the train, when you accidentally dropped a mug in the kitchen. The sound it made when it hit the floor was something you’d never forget, which made this all worse.

Chunks of his arm were scattered across the floor. A few of the spectators were hit with bits and pieces, and one man towards the front had a shard lodged in his throat. Blood poured from the wound like someone had turned on a faucet. He was gasping and gurgling, choking. Curtis drew you back to him the second you lifted your head.

“Edgar, keep an eye on things. I’ll be back in a minute,” he whispered. Edgar nodded, and Curtis nudged you towards him. Curtis disappeared into the room quartered off, hidden by a curtain. Gilliam’s private room, you assumed. Once he was fully out of view, Edgar brought your head to his shoulder.

“The first one you see is always the worst, sunshine. Just keep yer chin up an’ try not to think about it.”

 

*

 

Clean up was an utter monstrosity. Between the blood, the body, and chunks of frozen arm, the entire cabin area smelled of rot. Edgar refused to allow you to help, probably on the word of Curtis. He did, however, leave you to console the dead man’s wife. She sobbed and screamed and clawed, trying to get to those guards. It took four people, including you, to hold her back. You learned to never underestimate the power of grief again.

Curtis hadn’t returned. Your stomach turned over at the thought of what could be going on back there. Clearly, he was in a heated debate, as you could hear his voice rising over the incessant chatter of the other passengers. His volume would swell to near hollering, but then quickly fall back to an inaudible volume. There was no telling what they were bickering about, and Edgar wasn’t about to start telling you secrets, no matter how hard you pressed.

“Don’t fuss about it,” Tanya sighed. “We’ve got other things to worry about right now.” You shot her a questioning glance. She just smiled like she had a secret, which, apparently, was not so uncommon. There was nothing to do other than wave it off at this point, but that didn’t mean you weren’t curious.

“Didn’ ‘e tell ‘er?” Edgar snorted, crossing his arms. Tanya shushed him, swatting his chest.

“Don’t you ruin this, Edgar. It’s a surprise, and it better stay that way!” she warned, giving him a stern look. He threw his hands up defensively.

“I ain’t tellin’ ‘er nothin’.” He looked like he wanted to say more, but he was interrupted by the abrupt arrival of Curtis. Curtis looked different somehow. There was an inconspicuous playfulness tugging at the corner of his lips. In a swift motion, he tugged at your wrist, signaling you to take his hand. Your fingers laced between his. The rough pads of his fingertips pressed into your knuckles with care, meant to be a gentle squeeze.

“You two mind if I borrow her for a few?” It was posed as a question, but it was meant to be rhetorical. Tanya nodded, and Edgar made a non-committal gesture for him to take you. You raised an eyebrow, and Curtis just chuckled.

“C’mon. I want to show you something.” With another soft tug, he began to direct you to the room he’d just come out of: Gilliam’s private quarters. Your brows furrowed, confusion writing itself into your features.

“Curtis, what-”

“Just come look, okay? If you don’t like it, I can do something else.” You sighed heavily, but still gave him a leery smile. He hesitated in front of the curtain, pulled you in front of him, and used one hand to cover your eyes. You could hear the sound of the metal rings sliding across the pole. There were a few carefully guided steps forward, and you heard the sound again.

“I really hope you like this,” Curtis whispered. “Took me a long time to get ready.”

When he pulled his hand from your eyes, you were greeted by the most beautiful sight. Candles were lined from wall to wall. The flames danced back and forth, creating new shadows against the iron. Nothing could stop the gasp from escaping your lips, and you looked back at Curtis with wide eyes. A hand flew up to cover your shock. Curtis was rubbed at the back of his neck.

“I owe a lot of people a lot of favors for helping me set this up, but the look on your face right now is worth all of it. Last night, I told you I would do this the right way. There isn’t too much left of the world we came from, but I wanted you to experience this.” He nudged you with his elbow. “Pretty romantic, huh?”

Your smile grew exponentially, and you threw your arms around his neck.

“Curtis, this is…” You pressed your lips to his quickly. “This is fucking amazing.” _Another kiss._ “You are.” _Another kiss._ “The most incredible man.” _Kiss_. “Ever. I love it. I love you.”

“You want to make this real now?” he chuckled, stealing a few kisses of his own. You nodded quickly, taking both of his hands in yours. The light from the candles flickered across his features, making them look even sharper.

That was when you realized what had looked so different about him: he’d cleaned up pretty well. Both his hair and his beard had been meticulously trimmed. You asked him how, though it took you a few rough tries first. He pulled you flush against him, craning his neck to give you yet another kiss.

“Tanya had a comb and some nail clippers. Ellen helped me out. Do you like it?” You nodded with enthusiasm, leaning further into him. Before he has a chance to react, you catch his lower lip between your teeth. There was a moment of suction, drawing his lip in a bit further. You allowed your lower teeth to scrape against the outside oh so lightly, causing him to let out a ragged breath. With a small backwards movement of your head, his lip was tugged teasingly. A pleased hiss made its way over your skin, leaving behind a heated tingle. Your teeth finally relinquished their hold on him. He took a deep inhalation.

“I'll take that as a yes?” he snickered before pulling you into a heated, crushing kiss. Your lips worked against his in synchronicity, creating a symphony of teeth on teeth, tongues clashing, slick, swollen lips smacking, and heaving breaths accompanied by occasional groans and whimpers. The tip of his tongue flickered across the roof of your mouth, sending a harsh chill up the full length of your spine. You shuddered nearly imperceptibly, but Curtis wrapped his arms tighter around you. One of his hands came to rest against the front of your hip while the other snaked its way to your ass. With a low rumbling in his chest, a laugh, you assumed, he gave it a firm squeeze.

Curtis took a large step forward, making you take three steps back. His hips nudged yours with every movement. Progressively, it became more difficult to hold back the outlandish moans building in your throat. As soon as he backed you into the wall, one of them slipped out. Another followed when his fingers meandered to your wrists, and he forced your arms against the wall as well.

He let himself press harder into you, fingers creeping their way up. Your fingers soon laced between his. A few more strategically placed flicks of his tongue and he shifted, using one hand to pin yours. His now free hand traced the lining of your coat before slipping down to the hem of your shirt.

Curtis made a departure from your lips, instead moving in to attack your neck. As if it wasn’t marked enough from the night before, he made sure to leave bigger bites and bruises, ensuring the sides of your neck wouldn’t possibly have any untainted flesh visible. Just as you were thinking that there was no possible way this could end badly, a panicked ruckus erupts from the other side of the curtain. Curtis was hesitant to pull away.

“I’ve been waiting too long for this. It’s their turn to wait. I _need_ this. I need _you_ ,” he whispered, placing a few sloppy, open-mouthed kissed across your collar bone.

The divider moved like a breeze had whipped though it, finally startling Curtis enough to stop. You broke away to see Edgar’s flushed face peering into the room. His eyes were wide, jaw agape.

“Curtis… Curtis, you needa see this. C’mon, mate! I need yer help! I know ya wanna slip ‘er the sausage, but y’gotta wait. I’m sorry.” Curtis shot you an apologetic look and released his grip. He began to pull your jacket tighter around you.

“I’m so sorry. If you hate me for this, I won’t blame you,” he muttered through a tense jaw. You shook your head, gave him a small peck, and grabbed his hand. He retaliated with a kiss to your forehead.

“I’m not mad, honey. Obviously, someone needs your help,” you replied quietly with another chaste kiss. “Much more than I need you to… Well, y’know.” He winked playfully.

“Guess I’m going to make _this_ up to you, too.” You just bumped him with your hip and squeezed his fingers. The two of you shared an understanding glance, and he pulled you towards the source of the noise.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For CastielsLieutenant and Eli. : )  
> Slightly shorter than usual this time, but I've decided to continue this one. : )  
> You'll understand why at the end! ; D  
> Feedback, as always, is appreciated.
> 
> <3

Curtis worked his way passed the curtain with you in tow, following Edgar into the aisle between bunks. His broad set shoulders blocked your view of anything but his back. The split in his coattail swayed against the cadence of his walk, swatting the back of his thighs on every step forward. It made a heavy thumping sound, blending seamlessly with the thud of his boots against the icon panels beneath your feet. One of his boots was halfway untied. You almost wanted to warn him, tell him to stop and tie it so he didn’t trip. Curtis didn’t need a mother hen, though, and the plea would likely fall on deaf ears.

The gap between Curtis’ arm and side were just enough for you to make out Edgar ahead of him. His arm was raised cautiously like he was trying to bar Curtis from moving ahead of him. Their gait slowed, stalling yours as well. Curtis’ arm moved back out of instinct, likely to reassure himself that you were still behind him. That, or to prevent you from seeing what lie ahead. In any matter, his protective measures failed.

Blood. Complete and absolute carnage. The walls looked like a large scale splatter painting, and the floor – oh god, the _floor_ – was blanketed in red. Intestines littered the floor, strewn out about from one side to the other. Bodies, maybe six or seven, were haphazardly piled in the divide between the two raging armies. Guards lined the head of the cabin, half with assault rifles, half armed with large knives. The other side of the schism was comprised of few other tail passengers. Most, if not all, of the deceased were passengers. You recognized a few unfortunate faces, twisted and contorted in grotesque looks of agony.

In the center stood Minister Mason. Had she not had her fill of brutality for the day? It had been mere hours since her last act of cruelty. She favored the excuse of fulfilling Wilford’s requests, but any man that would even allow a tail section for this many years would not be so cruel. Even Gilliam had insisted that Wilford wouldn’t demand such barbaric treatment.

Curtis looked over at Edgar, nudging him and then pointing towards the other end of the line-up. You saw Edgar’s eyes bulge slightly and decided immediately to follow his stare. At the far end of the row stood Tanya, with her fists clenched and blood speckling her usually friendly face. Edgar took a step forward, but Curtis stopped him.

“Don’t, Ed. They’ll kill you,” Curtis asserted, giving Edgar’s shoulder a squeeze. Edgar shrugged Curtis’ hand off, but didn’t move another inch forward. He looked positively irate. Each breath whistled through his nose with excessive force, and his chest heaved violently.

“Keep yer fuckin’ hands offa me, Curtis. This ain’t the time t’ be playin’ hero,” he hissed, eyes narrowing into small slits. “An’ don’t you even fuckin’ try ‘n’ tell me t’ get yer little _princess_ outta here. She ain’t a fuckin’ child no more, an’ neither am I.” Curtis’ jaw fell slack, then tensed right back up. You could tell he wanted to say something. He had words ready to spill, words likely to cut deep, but he refrained.

He guided his hand to your wrist, pulling you forward towards him. The way his clenched jaw tightened further was a sign that there was something else wrong, more than he’d let on.

“That guard,” he muttered. “He’s looking for you again.” Your chest was now pressed against his back, and though it was probably useless, you adjusted your feet to match his stance in an attempt to blend in. It was no secret what was going through Curtis’ mind. That guard _wanted_ something from you, something you were far from willing to give. And you knew – you just _knew_ – that Curtis would fight tooth and nail, to the death if necessary, to keep that rotten son of a bitch from taking it.

Every time Curtis drew in another breath, there was an unsettling rattling in his chest. It wasn’t a wheezing sound from his lungs or a sharp hiss from the buildup of phlegm, but rather the sound of his resolve crumbling like a crushed cracker. All it would take to set him off would be someone even breathing wrong in his general direction. Only once in your life had you ever seen Curtis break like that.

_“You touch her again, and I will fucking kill you,” Curtis hissed with narrowed eyes. “Don’t you ever put your disgusting fucking hands on her again. I swear to God, John, if I ever find out that you’ve even so much as looked at her the wrong way, I’ll gut you and feed you your own intestines.”_

_His jaw was clenched tight. Each movement looked like a struggle, like a mechanical ticking. The masseter muscles on each side of his jaw bulged a little beneath the taut covering of his discolored skin. His hands were balled up into thick, sturdy fists, ready to jump from John’s collar at a second’s notice._

_John had a sickening smile smeared across his lips, even with Curtis ready to pummel him. It was the same look he had on his face when he had crawled into your bunk in the middle of the night, trying to cop a feel. You’d let out possibly the most ear-splitting shriek, promptly waking not only Curtis, but Tanya and Edgar as well. Hell, you probably woke a majority of the cabin. Before John could even take another breath, Curtis was yanking him from your bed by the collar of his shirt and slamming him into the wall._

_“She’s not a baby, Everett. Quit treatin’ her like one,” he growled back. With renewed force, Curtis reeled back his arms and launched forward, bouncing John’s head off the wall._

_“She’s fifteen, you slimy piece of shit!” The venom in Curtis’ tone was enough to scare even you, and_ you _were the one he was protecting. Edgar had his arms wrapped around you, rubbing the pads of his fingers up and down your back. He’d just recently hit a growth spurt, shooting up few inches in just a couple months. The gangly boy had long, thin arms with legs to match and was now a bit taller than you. Your head was tucked into the crook of his neck, but your eyes were focused on Curtis._

_John opened his mouth to speak again, and Curtis pulled his fist back immediately, preparing to strike if necessary._

_“The little whore wants it,” John chuckled, hocking a wad of spit in Curtis’ face. Curtis lost all control. He threw one punch, and it was game over for John. Curtis just kept hitting him, smacking him around, screaming in his face…_

“Everett!” Curtis’ head jerked to the left a little, and you assumed he was looking at the guard in question. “Tell that pretty little thing of yours that next time, she’s coming with me.”

You fisted your hands in the back of Curtis’ jacket, clinging to him for dear life. Not for your own safety, but for his.

“Please, Curtis, don’t,” you plead, resting your forehead between his shoulders. “Don’t react. Don’t move. Curtis, please.” The muscles in his back relaxed and he sighed, signaling that he would try to keep calm.

“Punishment is in order!” Mason balked out, efficiently silencing every other voice in the room. “As atonement for your insubordination, we will be withholding your protein blocks for a period of no less than three days.” No one dared breathe a word after that. Minister Mason rounded up her troops and guided them towards the gate, but remained at the head of the pack.

When you released the stitching of his coat, Curtis wheeled around and stormed back to Gilliam’s private room. You shot Edgar a baleful look, and followed after Curtis.

The curtain rod gave a sharp squeal as the rings slid across it. You did your best to secure the divider to give the two of you a bit of privacy, but there was only so much you could do before the need to tend to Curtis overwhelmed every other thought in your mind.

He was sitting on his knees in the corner of the room, facing the wall. The tremor in his shoulders bore a striking resemblance to the kind of shakes most people got when they were crying, but you knew better than that. You assumed a similar position behind Curtis, tucking your feet beneath you.

“Are you okay?” you asked gently. Curtis tensed up again when your fingers met his shoulders, but at the sound of your voice, he hunched forward, dropping his forehead against the grimy wall. He shook his head defiantly. Behind his head, his fingers wove together. You pressed slightly forward, resting your chin against the nape of his neck.

“Curtis, relax,” you whispered, pressed a few kisses just below his ear. He sighed, low and frustrated. As much as you didn’t want to, you drew yourself back and began to work. Deftly, your fingers worked into the tense muscles in his back, trying to ease the strain.

“Please talk to me. I know this is hard, Curtis. I know. But please say something.”

Curtis turned his head towards you, exhaling heavily. He didn’t say anything, but of course, he didn’t need to. The rims of his eyes were red, matching the tip of his nose. With a pathetically adorable sniffle, he tilted his head back. It came to rest in the crook of your neck, and you draped your arms over his shoulders. Your palms settled on his chest, rubbing loving circles across his pecs. His fingers tangled with yours, and he began to grumble your name over and over until he could speak without his voice cracking.

“I can’t relax. I can’t.” His voice wobbled a bit, like he was about to start crying. Instead, he inhaled deep through his nose. His chest swelled beneath your joined hands. When he exhaled, the warm air came out in a huff, ghosting across the front of your throat.

“I want to kill him,” he confessed, mumbling your name. “The way he was looking at you, how he looks _for_ you, I… I want to kill him. I won’t let anyone hurt you.” He let out a dry, humorless laugh, rolling his head to stare at the ceiling. “Just wanna hurt him so fucking badly… I want to break every single bone in his body so that he’ll never have another thought of putting his hands on you.”

You craned your neck a bit and pushed your lips against his temple. Curtis tilted his head just a little more to look you in the eye. After sharing a stare for a short moment, you saw something in his eyes. Something swimming at the back, like it was gnawing at the nerves. With you posing a silent question, his response was a pleading gaze, begging you not to ask. For a moment, you almost did. You almost asked why. Your lips parted just enough for a soft breath to escape, but you quickly pressed them back together.

“I love you so much,” Curtis sighed. “I love you, and I would do anything to keep you safe.”

That was when he broke. The dam he’d worked so hard to build came down, and the tears he’d fought to hold back began to pour out. Down his cheeks they fell, following the same path like a raging river, eroding a trail in his face. They slipped and slid onto your shoulder when he turned his face back into the side of your neck. A mild case of tremors took over again, wracking his entire body. _These_ were his crying shakes. His bearded jaw ground against your collar bone, practically wearing a hole through your flesh. You weren’t quite sure what more to do, so you settled for cradling his head, carding your fingers through his hair.

It took a little while for Curtis to regain his composure. By the time he did, he was frankly quite the sight to behold. His head was resting atop your thighs with the rest of his body sprawled out across the floor. In your seventeen years by his side, Curtis had never had a breakdown quite like this. You guessed it was probably a culmination of all those negative emotions that had built up. It was all coming out at once, and truthfully, it was probably for the best.

As of now, his eyes were drifting slowly from the ceiling to your face. The way he stared at you was like he wanted to remember this. He was mapping every single detail, marking it in his mind. Remaining expressionless, he reached up carefully, stroking his calloused fingertips down your jaw.

“You look absolutely beautiful right now, you know that?” You shook your head gently. His palm curled, tucking his fingers beneath your chin. The pad of his thumb traced the outline of your lower lip. A mixture of concern and appreciation knit his brows together as he stared up at you. The other hand reached further, tugging his cap further down over your ears. It came to rest at the back of your neck, and he gave you a slight tug.

“Please,” he whispered hoarsely. You took a deep breath when his eyes moved down to your lips, and his tongue swiped across his lower one slowly. Leaning down, you gave him a small, chaste kiss. A smile could be felt beneath the pressure of your lips. It was sweet, soft, and didn’t last long. When you started to right your position and straighten your back, Curtis bolted up, throwing himself back to his knees. His rough hands gripped your cheeks. There was a fire behind his eyes that burned hotter, brighter, than any of the still burning candles surrounding you.

“If you want me to stop-”

“Curtis, shut up,” you panted. Without consideration in regards to anything or any _one_ else, your lips met his in a violent collision. He maintained his hold on your cheeks, pulling you in closer, but no matter what he did, no matter what you did, you couldn’t get close enough. There would always be too much space between the two of you. Even if you were pressed skin on skin, no barriers, it’d never be enough.

Those beautiful lips of his were dry and cracked, and they’d never felt better against yours. The rhythm he had set created a beautiful symphony of teeth, tongues, and lips. Your palms pressed against his collar bones as you dug your fingertips into the muscle surrounding them. The symphony itself was joined by a cadence of sharp gasps and breathy whimpers. You were practically putty in his hands, and if you had things your way, there would be no interruptions this time around.

His teeth grazed your lower lip briefly before he nipped at it and pulled it into his mouth. The pressure created by Curtis sucking on your lower lip was enough to spur a less-than-ladylike noise from the back of your throat. That only seemed to encourage him more. He bit down with just enough force to earn a shallow whimper. There was a slight tug on the skin, but he then let go, allowing your swollen, spit-slick lips to force themselves back up against his. It was your turn to take control, to be the aggressor.

Curtis pulled away suddenly before you had the chance, pressing his forehead to yours. The heated, labored breaths coming from his lips were in constant confrontation with yours. You couldn’t seem to open your eyes. It was like they were glued shut. They felt weighted, heavy.

“Baby, look at me,” he sighed. The tip of his nose nudged yours, and you finally found the strength to look into his eyes. Those steely blues were clouded, pupils blown wide open. “Do you want this?”

Fervently, you nodded. Your nose nudged his again. His eyelashes fluttered against your half-lidded eyes with every blink, making it even harder to restrain yourself. Was he asking because he wanted consent? Or was he asking because _he_ didn’t want this?

It didn’t take much for Curtis to unintentionally answer your question. You whispered the word ‘yes’, and his fingertips were immediately tugging at the hem of your shirt, patiently waiting for you to lift your arms for him.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so comes the conclusion.  
> My apologies for a.) how short this is and b.) my lack of experience in writing sexual content.  
> Thanks for sticking with me through this one, loves!
> 
> <3

Curtis worked your shirt halfway up your torso before peeling the lapels of your jacket away from your body. You made a quick move to straddle his lap, settling one knee on each side of his thighs. The thick fabric of your coat was pushed away slowly, and you let the thick-stitched shoulders fall from your arms. His fingers returned to your still somewhat lifted shirt, tugging it further upward. Pressing a hand to his chest, you slipped it beneath his own coat. The tips of your fingers ran up over his shoulder, tracing a line back forward. His shoulders jerked slightly at the pressure, trying his damnedest to shrug the excess fabric off. You took the opportunity of distraction to tug at his lower lip with your teeth, drawing a pleased groan from the back of his throat.

For only a fraction of a second, Curtis broke from you. His lip slid out from between your teeth with ease, and you knew exactly what he was up to. Your arms were both immediately raised over your head, and Curtis tugged your shirt off in one fluid motion before casting it aside. The flesh of his fingers dug into your bared ribs as he returned his lips to their home, where they belonged. He wasted no time reclaiming the kiss like it was stolen property. It was different this time, though, less aggressive, less desperate. It was slower, more passionate, like you both needed this, but also needed to take your time. Nothing you’d felt in your life had ever compared to this, nor would anything you’d ever feel after. The world aside from you and Curtis had stopped spinning. All was still. All was silent.

Your fingertips slipped beneath the hem of his sweater. With a slight tug and a gasp for air, it joined your shirt across the room. Curtis allowed his fingers to trail at a snail’s pace from your rib cage to your hips. They pressed in hard enough that you couldn’t tell if he were restraining himself from doing more or if he just needed a better grip to assure himself that you were absolutely real. Instead of reacting to the intensity of the pressure, you pushed your forehead against his, stealing a few quick pecks.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked quietly, chest heaving with ragged breaths. You opened your mouth to respond, but nothing came out. Words failed you when you needed them most, so instead you just swallowed the anxious lump in your throat and nodded. Another sharp inhale and Curtis brought one hand to your face, cradling your cheek. The pad of his thumb stroked a gentle curve across your skin, which instinctively made you lean into it. He snagged a small, chaste kiss as you guided his hand back to its former place on your hip. A plea of _‘please_ ’ rolled off your lips, and that was all it took for him to finally understand.

His hips rolled up against yours, pressing the bulge beneath his sweats into the juncture of your thigh and pelvis. Both of his hands slid to meet at the waistband of your pants. Not without hesitancy, he gave them a slight tug. You raised the back side of your thighs from his lap, allowing him enough room to ease them gentle over the soft curve of your ass. A soft murmur of _‘stand up’_ filled the short space that had formed between your lips and his. As much as you didn’t want to separate from him, you did as you were told, allowing your pants to slip down your legs, falling into a heap on the floor.

Curtis moved quickly but gracefully, taking the opportunity to begin peppering kisses across your thighs. His hands settled just above your knees. You glanced down at him, watching him move up to press his forehead against your stomach. The tips of your fingers curled against the hinge of his jaw, drawing a shuddering breath from him. He shifted, staring up at you with his weary blue eyes. His fingers burned a trail up to your hips, which he gripped like he was afraid to let go. The part between his lips widened slightly.

“God, you’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmured, pressing a sweet kiss just below your navel. You slipped a fingertip beneath his chin, nudging it up towards you more. Quickly, he took the hint and stood up. The fabric of his black sweatpants clung to his shapely legs, but only until you began to tug them down, exposing the defined V cut running the outline of his pelvis. Without thinking, your index fingers traced the lines down to the waistband. Curtis shivered slightly, dropping his forehead into the curve of your neck. A heaving breath and he was nipping playfully but compellingly just below your ear.

It only took another few clumsily calculated tugs to get his last article of clothing to fall. His pants pooled around his ankles before he kicked them away. No barriers left between the two of you, Curtis pushed his front side to yours. His hardened length pressed firmly against your stomach. You shifted your hips quickly, forcing a faltering breath from his chest.

“I love you, Curtis,” you whispered seconds before surging forward to capture his lips in another aggressively passionate kiss. It was sloppy and unkempt, mixing a soundtrack of clanking teeth and the slicking sound of exchanged saliva. His teeth tugged your lower lip between his own lips, giving it a teasing suck before reclaiming every inch of your mouth as his own. There was a possessive fire behind his every move.

One of his hands wandered down to your thigh. He rucked it up over his hip, wrapping the other arm around your back. The pressure of his fingertips pulsed against you like he was tapping out Morse code. He was sending you a message. If you were reading it correctly, his message was to wrap your legs around him and give up any and all control you had. You obeyed immediately. Curtis kept you steady until your ankles hitched behind his back. You could feel your heels digging into his tailbone, but it didn’t seem like he minded. He ground his hips into you, letting out a muted groan against your mouth, and pulled back slightly.

“Curtis… Curtis, wait,” you whimpered out. He drew himself further back, looking slightly up you though his lashes. His eyes were still half-lidded. There was an incredibly strong urge to kiss him again. Ignore everything and kiss him. _Kiss him. Kiss him. Kiss him._

Like he’d read your mind, Curtis leaned in and stole another quick but sweet kiss.

“As long as you want,” he breathed out huskily. “We don’t have to do this, sweetheart. I can wait.” You shook your head quickly, adding a few more pecks between hushing noises. The tips of your fingers stroked his strong jaw. He nuzzled against your touch.

“Unless we change up position, this might get uncomfortable for both of us pretty quickly,” you sighed. He chuckled, kissing your wrist.

“Doesn’t matter,” he muttered. “’m not gonna last long anyway.” You grinned, shaking your head again.

“Can we sit back down?” Without another word, he set you down before turning to grab his coat. The musculature of his frankly magnificent ass flexed and bounced a little with every movement of his toned legs. It was perfect. _He_ was perfect.

You let a low whistle slip as he turned back around, watching as his cock bobbed with his gait. The outer edge of your lower lip found its way between your teeth. He raised an eyebrow, eyes roaming your bared form, but said nothing. With extra caution, he laid his coat down on the gritty floor and took a seat. His finger crooked as he beckoned you to join him, which you did with no hesitation. You straddled his lap once more, settling one knee on each side of his thighs. One of his palms took up residence on your upper thigh while the other moved to cup your cheek. There was a silent plea for you to look him in the eye.

“This is probably going to hurt a bit, okay?” You nodded, placing both hands against his chest like he was made of glass. “If I’m hurting you, please tell me. Your first time is-”

“It’s… It’s not my first time,” you interjected, suddenly feeling a wave of shame hit you. It wasn’t something you wanted to admit, nor was it something you were proud of. Curtis wasn’t about to grill you for answers to unspoken questions, though. You knew that. You couldn’t help but feel a bit embarrassed. It felt like your entire face was on fire, but it wasn’t the same kind of fire that had been kindled within your body.

Curtis must have noticed the difference in your demeanor.

“I shouldn’t have assumed, baby,” he cooed, kissing the tip of your nose. “I’m sorry. But still, it might hurt. Promise you’ll tell me, alright?” You nodded, remaining silent. He used the hand still on your face to redirect your face until you couldn’t avoid looking at him.

“I’m not upset.” His voice was calm but firm. “I didn’t expect you to wait for me. Hell, I didn’t expect you to even _want_ me. If you still want this, still want _me_ , I’m all yours.”

Your lips crashed into his with such desperation that it almost hurt. His hold faltered, but he regrouped just as quickly, wrapping both arms around you. You could feel each and every muscle in his arms against your skin, safe and warm. The hold tightened, pulling you as close as humanly possible. Your smaller hands cradled his face. The hair lining his lower jaw scraped against your palms, rubbing them almost raw. The vague throb that developed matched that against your already angry collar bone that had met the same fate. Despite the mild discomfort, it was actually somewhat enjoyable. You knew that you’d still be feeling that beautiful burn for a few days to come. You’d still be feeling _him_ for a few days, in more ways than one.

One of his arms stayed tucked around your waist while the other moved down enough to grip the back of your thigh. He gave you a little bit of a tug, and you lifted up your hips. He hummed in approval, not daring to remove his lips from yours for any reason. Since he couldn’t exactly see what he was doing, he fumbled for a second.

Curtis took his time aligning his swollen, reddened, leaking tip with your entrance. He broke the kiss just long enough to ask you wordlessly for permission one last time. You merely nodded before chasing down the kiss he’d abandoned. As soon as your lips reconnected with his, his arms locked around you, holding you tightly against his chest.

“I love you,” he huffed out between kisses. It was like he couldn’t say it enough, and you’d never get sick of hearing it. You replied in kind, again between kisses, as you began to sink down slowly.

Initially, the stretch burned. It felt more like being torn apart from the inside out, and you paused. Curtis yet again pulled away, tipping his head back until it hit the wall with a dull thud. His hold on you tensed a bit. The center of his lower lip hitched between his teeth as he hissed sharply.

“Fucking – god damn, babe,” he groaned out, gripping your body tighter. “If you move right now, I… Fuck, I’m gonna lose it. Gimme a second.” You nodded mutely, leaning forward enough to press your forehead to his. After a few deep breaths, he took a long, slow blink before looking you in the eye. The pressure in your abdomen had begun to subside, so you waited for his permission. He nodded almost imperceptibly.

Ignoring the pain, you continued to slide down on him until you were fully seated on his length. Curtis let out a low, guttural moan. His arms squeezed you tighter, and he tucked his head into the crook of your neck. Delicate kisses were piled on top of each other in the juncture, forcing a gasp from the back of your throat.

“Shit,” he grunted. “Are… _Mmm_ … Are you okay?” Honestly, you were incredibly hesitant to answer. The pain was almost overwhelming. You did you best to refrain from crying out, but the few tears that fell were inkling enough for him. He looked up again, face falling into slight dismay. “Oh, baby girl… Fuck, I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. Did I hurt you? Did I rush you? Oh god, I didn’t mean to… I’m so so-”

“Curtis,” you gasped. “Stop. Don’t do that, okay?” You pressed a quick kiss into his nose. “Everything is fine, honey. Everything’s alright. It hurts a little, but I’m _fine_. You haven’t done anything wrong. Please, Curtis… Please… Don’t worry so much.”

He shook his head with a chuckle, but quickly did his best to stifle it when he saw the look of discomfort that found your face.

“You know I can’t help but worry, sugar.” He leaned up to take a sneaky peck, but as a playful punishment, you ground your hips down into him. A surprised growl snuck out, then he placed a few more across your throat. “Can you move?”

“I… I think so,” you answered, making a full circle rotation of your hips. Curtis bit down on his lip, fingertips flexing against your back. Experimentally, you rolled forward. He groaned louder than he had thus far, squeezing you tighter. You ducked down to kiss him again, lifting your hips up until only the flared head of his cock remained inside you. With a hushed whimper against his wide open mouth, you lowered yourself back down until his length bottomed out.

Curtis’ spine arched as you set a slow, steady pace. Sweat trickled down his throat, pooling in the hollow. His breathing was ragged, uneven. The rise and fall of your hips matched the rise and fall of his chest. You wanted this to take your time, hoping that this wouldn’t end any time soon. Sure, you both knew better than to expect your bodies to hold up for too long, but that didn’t stop you from praying that this moment would last forever.

He cradled you against him like you were made of glass. Not once again did his lips leave yours, nor did your chest leave his. You felt safe with him, even with one of your arms thrown haphazardly around his neck and the other holding a steady hand pressed over his heart. You felt at home.

Curtis _was_ your home. Anywhere he went, you’d be sure to follow. He had your heart in the palm of his hand, but gave you his in return. You would never give it back. You’d never want to yours back, either.

The stutter of his hips, the words on his lips, that was all you’d ever need. Nothing else would ever matter quite the way he did.

“I love you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Harass me on tumblr: @sebeefstianstan


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